


We Have Been in Love That Long

by bbelle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode: s09e18 Meta Fiction, Fluff, Love, M/M, Mark of Cain, Poetry, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 18:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1478971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbelle/pseuds/bbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas tries to focus on his priorities: gathering the angels, defeating Metatron, restoring heaven, etc. But he can't stop thinking about the mark on Dean's arm. Or the millions of lyrics, quotes, and movie scenes that Metatron has shoved into his head. </p><p>On the one hand, he is glad to finally be able to retroactively get some cultural references. On the other hand, his brain seems to have latched onto love songs and poems, and he's not really sure what to make of that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Have Been in Love That Long

**Author's Note:**

> There are a ton of quotes here, so I'm not going to cite all the references. I may add them later, if there's interest. Or if you recognize any, leave it in the comments :)

There were too many things to do. Battles to be fought and a despot to overthrow. There were armies to gather.

He had never intended to be a leader. Not again, not after everything. And he wondered why anyone was still willing to follow him.

There were many things to do, too many, and none of them required thinking about the mark on Dean’s arm. Yet the image still dominated his thoughts. 

Did Dean honestly expect him not to notice? As if he were not aware of every molecule in Dean’s body. As if he could see his eyes and not realize that something was different.

_I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain_

Oh yes, and if that weren’t distracting enough, there were also thousands of years of cultural references that had been stuffed in his brain, now leaking out and begging his attention.

_Oh, my love, my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch_

Metatron had only mentioned books, movies, and television shows, but it was the songs that were the greatest nuisance. Snatches of melody and lyrics floated through his mind, annotating every thought.

As if he needed another reason to hate that megalomaniacal ass. Him and his “stories.” He was slaughtering angels, wreaking havoc in heaven and on Earth, and all he seemed to care about were the stories.

_But these stories don’t mean anything, if you’ve got no one to tell them to, it’s true…I was made for you_

Yes, he had to concentrate on defeating Metatron, gathering the angels…

_You’re just like an angel, your skin makes me cry_

Dean’s skin had felt different. Even before he touched the mark, there was something…foreign about it. And then when Dean grabbed his shoulder, he felt it radiate through him, felt it come straight from the source, that wretched mark on his arm.

_I want my arm about you, that charm about you, will carry me through, to heaven_

He was pissed at Dean, sure, but he also felt angry somehow at the mark itself. That it was corrupting Dean, his soul, and his body. The soul he’d raised from Hell…

_Remember the day I set you free, I told you, you could always count on me, from that day I made a vow, I’ll be there when you want me_

The body he’d reconstructed from dust…

_i like my body when it is with your_ _body. it is so quite new a thing. muscles better and nerves more. i like your body. i like what it does…_

And then there was the poetry. Granted, some of it was quite lovely, but it seemed largely irrelevant. The song lyrics were at best tangentially related to his thoughts, while the poems appeared to be completely arbitrary.

_I crave your mouth, your voice, your hair._ _Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets. Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day, I hunt for the liquid measure of your steps._

Yes, clearly, completely and utterly random.

_I could deny it if I liked. I could deny anything if I liked._

He could also do without the plays, particularly anything by Oscar Wilde. Those snippets were just as irrelevant as the others, but they seemed rather pointed and snarky nonetheless.

Okay, he needed to focus. No wonder humans were such a mess. It was a wonder anyone could think with all of these quotes and lyrics and melodies and images flowing through, other people’s thoughts running rampant in your mind.

_I have my freedom, but I don’t have much time._

Well, damn right, his grace was running out, and he really didn’t have much time at all.That lyric must have been accidentally relevant. That was bound to happen sooner or later.

He was supposed to be thinking about angels. But really, he had to admit that he was still thinking about Dean. The elder Winchester had always been impulsive, even reckless. That’s what got him into Hell in the first place. Loyalty, a sense of a duty, and a blind eye when it came to considering the potential future consequences of his actions, these were hallmark characteristics of Dean Winchester. Still, he used to have at least some sense of self-preservation. He remembered one conversation in particular…

“ _So what, I’m Thelma and you’re Louise, and we’re just gonna hold hands and sail off this cliff together_?”

Ha! That quote finally made sense. Though it was odd to think that Dean had likened them to these two women. It was an interesting choice.

_…gracious your form and your eyes as honey : desire is poured upon your lovely face…_

Nonsensical poetry aside, maybe there was an upside to having this newfound cultural knowledge. He thought back to other instances when people made references that he didn’t understand. Often they were calling him by some other name, and now perhaps he could actually comprehend their intent.

_“Undo your buttons…That’s far enough Tony Manero.”_

Aha, so that was clearly simply a reference to a man with a very low cut shirt. Still, he smiled at the memory.

And Clarence! He was a fictional angel. That made sense. Okay, so far there hadn’t been anything terribly insulting, which was a relief.

“ _What are you, the Hamburglar_?” Well, that was actually rather funny, if a bit obvious.

Really, though, he should not allow himself to get so distracted. Heaven and Earth were at risk, and here he was reminiscing about nicknames, most of which Dean had given him at some point or another.

He sighed as he thought again of Dean.

_Maybe millions of people go by, but they all disappear from view, and I only have eyes for you…the first time I ever saw your face, I thought the sun rose in your eyes…I see the doorway to a thousand churches, in your eyes…you see I’ve forgotten if they’re green or they’re blue, anyway the thing is what I really mean, yours are the sweetest eyes I’ve ever seen_

Well, of course, Dean had green eyes, he could never forget that. Not that these lyrics had anything to do with Dean. He just so happened to be thinking of Dean, and then these damnable melodies came to him, and all of them seemed to be about eyes for some reason...

_Take him, and cut him out in little stars, and he will make the face of heaven so fine, and all the world will be in love with night_

Well, now there seemed to be something of a “face” theme.

_And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, it touches my foolish heart_

Perhaps particular features of the face…

_You smiled, and then the spell was cast…_

Dean really did have a wonderful smile. The moment in the car when he’d made that Saturday Night Fever reference, gently mocking him, seemed far away now. It had been so long since he’d seen Dean smile.

_Since you’ve gone I’ve been lost without a trace, I dream at night, I can only see your face, I look around but it’s you I can’t replace…I can put my arms around every boy I see, but they’d only remind me of you…the mere idea of you, the longing here for you, you’ll never know how slow the moments go, ‘til I’m near you…you, soft and only, you, lost and lonely, strange as angels…_

Angels. Yes, angels. That’s what he was supposed to be thinking about. Oh, damn this. Damn all of it. And damn Dean too.

 _I can’t help myself…_ _when you snap your finger or wink your eye, I come running to you…something happens and I’m head over heels…I can’t live, with or without you…I wish I knew how to quit you!_

Though lyrics were the most insidious, movie quotes were the absolute worst, because they brought such vivid imagery. Like right now, he saw those expansive country scenes, wide blue skies, and two men…in a tent…oh dear...

That’s inappropriate.

_And I would be the one to hold you down, kiss you so hard, I’ll take your breath away_

Well…that imagery was not from the film. Obviously. He and Dean were never in a movie together. It must be, some kind of blend. Lyrics and memories and movie images all blurred together, and…

_In my dreams, I’ve kissed your lips a thousand times_

Hmmm…

_You don’t know how long I’ve wanted, to touch your lips and hold you tight…but the secret is still my own, and my love for you is still unknown_

This was getting rather confusing.

 _Maybe I’m a lonely man who’s in the middle of something that he doesn’t really understand_  

Well, that was certainly true.

_The truth…it is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution._

Perhaps these lyrics and quotes were not as arbitrary as he’d initially supposed. Was there really some greater truth to be found?

_At the center of your being, you have the answer, you know who you are, and you know what you want_

In that instant, a thousand words, images, and melodies came at once. It should have been overwhelming, but it wasn’t. They were all telling the same truth. 

_One word_ _frees us of all the weight and pain of life: that word is love…it was love at first sight, at last sight, at ever and ever sight… the night we met I knew I needed you so… ‘cause you make me feel so brand new, and I want to spend my life with you...when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible…and if a double-decker bus crashes in to us, to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die...whatever this world can give to me, it’s you, you’re all that I see…so take my hand, take my whole life too, ‘cause I can’t help falling in love with you…however far away, I will always love you, however long I stay,I will always love you, whatever words I say, I will always love you...and God only knows what I’d be without you.._ _I who fashioned myself a sorcerer or an angel, who dispensed with all morality, I have come back to earth…_ _I love thee with a love I seemed to lose_ _with my lost saints…I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you…I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you…I am here, this moment, inside the beauty, the gift God has given, our love: this gold and circular sign means we are free of any duty: out of eternity, I turn my face to you, and into eternity: we have been in love that long_

Oh.


End file.
